I was lucky enough to have some superb international travel last year. It's a perk of the job. But - WARNING: MASSIVE CLICHE APPROACHING - there's really no place like home.
We spent Christmas Day in Auckland with South Island family visiting us. We had lunch at Grand Harbour, a swim at Pt Chev Beach and bliss everywhere.
Later, we parked the family up at Opoutere for our summer break, pitching a borrowed tent alongside good friends, cooling off in the ocean and the estuary and generally opening the first beer at around midday.
The weather was on our side and the campground crowd all seemed to be good sorts, some more confirmed in the camping arts than others. Even the drive home, complete with crawling traffic jam where the Coromandel hills met the Hauraki Plains, was an exercise in beatific chill.
It'd be hard to explain the appeal of the classic Kiwi summer holiday to folk from overseas - wiping melted icecream off the the kids' arms, spraying Deet on your ankles and swiping bugs off the chilly bin. But I wouldn't have swapped that trip for any other.
